Chronology’s funeral

Scholastic Silver Key

Excerpt

“Yes,” I reply slowly. “Thank you for your help. I’ll be on my way.” We are actors on a stage. He recites his line. I recite mine. I shift my weight slightly, rolling out of bed and slipping neatly into the slippers that have been set out for me. I’ve been in this body for almost three hundred years. I am one with every joint, every movement possible. I nod once again to the doctor, who inclines his head briefly, a false smile spread awkwardly across his face. It sits there as he waits for me to leave. But I hold my gaze, curious. I watch as the smile slowly drops off the doctor's face, and he turns away, busying himself with a stack of papers balanced haphazardly on the edge of the desk. The exact same scenario happened the last four times. Every time I am reset, the doctor is the same, the lights are the same, the crippling nausea is the same. Alternate timelines don’t exist. Am I doomed to follow the same events forever? Yes. I accept this, just like I accepted this the other four times. I quench the unanswered question that lurks somewhere deep inside me.